The Signs
by 5222008
Summary: Looking back on it later, Quinn saw that there had been signs.    Stand-alone fic in the "Rules" 'verse.


Looking back on it later, there had been signs. She and Rachel had been friends for over a year before anything happened between them, and Quinn had spent that year convinced that (even though Quinn was gay[ish] and Rachel was hot) she was in no way, shape, or form attracted to Rachel. Looking back on it later, Quinn had _so_ been attracted to Rachel.

The first sign should have been _Murder, She Wrote_. Quinn thought that she might be the only person under the age of eighty who had ever voluntarily watched that particular show, but that was okay. She really liked mysteries, and she really liked Angela Lansbury, and she remembered watching the show with her grandmother when she was a little kid, so it made sense that she would enjoy it. One night, early in her friendship with Rachel, she happened to mention her love for the show, and Rachel, who was intent on broadening her horizons and appreciated Angela Lansbury for her work in _Mame_, agreed to give it a try.

That first night, they sat curled on opposite sides of the giant couch in Rachel's family's basement. By the fifth night, they had moved close enough to share a fleece blanket, but they didn't touch. They watched the show at least twice a week, mostly at Rachel's house, and soon Rachel enjoyed it just as much as Quinn. Quinn was still better at predicting the killer, but Rachel was better at figuring out clues which clues would prove to be important. By the eighth night, Quinn was sprawled on the couch and Rachel was sprawled on Quinn. Quinn thought that Rachel is warmer than the fleece, and smelled better, too. Sometime around night thirteen, Rachel got in the habit of giving Quinn a backrub during the commercial break between the first and second episodes. Quinn _loved_ having her back rubbed, and though she thought it might be weird that her good friend Rachel was doing the rubbing, she tried not to read too much into it.

The second sign should have been the fact that Rachel was perfectly comfortable sitting on Quinn's lap, and the fact that Quinn didn't just tolerate it — she found ways to encourage it. In fact, Quinn started doing things that she knew would provoke Rachel into sitting on her lap. At parties, for example, Quinn would intentionally choose a seat in the middle of a group of people. When Rachel would look around for another empty seat, Quinn would casually pat her legs. Quinn told herself that it was just easier to hear Rachel when she was that close, and, as an added bonus, boys were much less likely to approach the brunette when she sat perched on the head cheerleader's lap. When they went to the park with Santana and Brittany, Quinn would sit on a bench and Rachel would sit on Quinn's lap. Noise levels weren't a problem at the park, but Quinn reasoned that, since she usually wore jeans and Rachel wore skirts, it was more sanitary for Rachel not to sit directly on the stone. It certainly had nothing to do with how comfortable she felt with her arm around Rachel's waist, and how warm Rachel's legs felt pressed against her own.

The third sign should have been Quinn's jealousy wherever Rachel's various suitors were concerned. Quinn hated it when Finn or Puck would approach Rachel at a party, or at the mall, or even at school. She rationalized it by saying that they'd both been terrible to Rachel in the past, and she was just concerned that they'd hurt her. Further, she'd dated Finn for almost a year, and had had a _baby_ with Puck. It was only logical that she would want her best friend to stay away from them. She spent hours bickering with Rachel over the boys — analyzing every comment, trying hard to be a supportive friend in spite of her disgust, and consoling her friend when, as always, the boys let her down.

One night, listening to Rachel over-analyze a brief conversation she'd had with Finn that day in the lunch line, Quinn's frustration spilled over. She was sitting in her desk chair, absent-mindedly surfing iTunes, when she found the perfect song: Spin Doctors' "Two Princes." Quinn turned up the volume on her laptop and turned on the song. At first, Rachel kept talking, not noticing the change in music. When she did notice, however, she was _not_ amused. She reached over Quinn's shoulder, trying to turn the song off and growing increasingly frustrated. Then, Quinn started singing along. Rachel climbed onto Quinn's lap, still trying to silence the computer and the girl. Finally, however, Quinn's enthusiastic rendition of the early-90s hit sent Rachel into peals of laughter. After the song was over, Rachel remained in Quinn's lap at the computer. Quinn slowly ran her hand up and down Rachel's back, and Rachel relaxed into the touch. Quinn told her that Finn wasn't good enough, that she deserved someone better. Quinn certainly didn't mean herself; she was almost sure of it.

The fourth sign should have been what happened whenever Quinn was in charge of the camera on girls' nights out. After Quinn and Rachel became friends, Santana and Brittany grudgingly agreed that the petite brunette could participate in the weekly girls' nights — events which, most weekends, resembled a cross between a middle-school sleepover and a bachelorette party. One staple of these raucous nights was the digital camera. The girls posed for photos, took videos of drunken dancing, and generally documented their antics. When Santana, Brittany, or Rachel had the camera, all four girls were equally represented. The videos were of Brittany breaking out killer dance moves, Santana and Quinn arguing, or Rachel giving speeches.

When _Quinn_ had the camera, a suspicious number of pictures were of Rachel. More specifically, Rachel's ass. The videos might start on Brittany, but soon they focused on the sway of Rachel's hips. Brittany and Santana teased Quinn relentlessly, but Quinn thought it was only natural that she spent more time on Rachel — Rachel was her best friend, and a great dancer, and would need those photos and videos eventually for career retrospectives. Quinn was just documenting Rachel's early, rebellious years.

Yes, looking back on it later, Quinn saw that there had been signs.

Now, as she watched Rachel sleep on the night before the brunette's eighteenth birthday, she thought about how ridiculous it had been that it took her over a year to recognize those signs.

"Hey, creeper," Rachel rasped, blinking. "Quit watching me sleep."

"You're so cute, though."

Rachel grinned and closed her eyes again.

"What are you thinking about?"

Quinn brushed Rachel's hair back from where it rested on her forehead.

"Oh, what it was like back when we were just friends."

Rachel smiled again.

"Oh, you mean back when you had a big, fat crush on me?"

Quinn laughed. "Yeah. Then."

"Well, now you have me. Go to sleep, creeper. I have big plans for you tomorrow."

Rachel turned towards Quinn, resting her head on the taller girl's shoulder. Quinn thought about the evenings they had spent watching _Murder, She Wrote_ in a similar position, the hours she had spent with Rachel on her lap, the night that "Two Princes" had become code for "I don't want to talk about your ex-boyfriend anymore," and the hundreds of photographs and videos that she had of Rachel's ass.

Looking back on it later, Quinn had _so_ been attracted to Rachel.


End file.
